Terminal Silver Waters /or\ Unchartered Swords
by amaranth1
Summary: I'm obsessed with LotR so... yeah, I'm just writing to get my 'addiction' down a bit, keep linking myself to that whole world. I hope you like this... :)
1. Elves in the Wood

1.1.1.1.1 Chapter 1  
  
1.1.1.1.2 Elves in the Wood  
  
Elven sisters, Amaranth and Astarii stood under the trees, the white light of Mirkwood shining through and making bright light patterns upon the leaf carpet in the forest.  
  
Both elves had seen many things, both grievous and joyful in their long years upon Middle-Earth, which showed in their yet young faces.  
  
Amaranth walked softly upon the leaves and stopped at one tall oak, touching the bark with her pale fingers, singing the tune of Tinúviel, a song long forgotten by men and hobbits alike, only remembered by those of close kindred to Lord Elrond and his sons. For indeed, Amaranth and Astarii were two daughters among the many of Lady Arwen Undómiel, and her beloved Aragorn son of Arathorn.  
  
"Why do you sing such a tune?" asked Astarii to her sister, "It should be forgotten. The world of Lúthien Tinúviel is long gone, the last to walk in her likeness was our own mother – and I wish not to remember her as someone else."  
  
Amaranth did not agree with her sister's word, but still she closed her mouth and the soft song of Tinúviel was stopped.  
  
For a long while, the twin elves stayed still and silent in the wood. Amaranth sat against the oak, and Astarii leant against another tree, staring out onto the stone benches and the white flagged paths of the Garden of Estel. Grown especially for the girls when Legolas Greenleaf took them from Lothlórien and brought them to Mirkwood, where they dwelt for the rest of their long, elven lives.  
  
"Dear sister, Amaranth," said Astarii, sighing, "Where are we really meant to dwell? For Lothlórien was once our home, as was Rivendell, but Lo! We now live in Mirkwood, which I do not see as our real home, although Legolas has made us feel so welcome."  
  
"Had." Amaranth said sharply, "Legolas has passed and you are quite wrong to speak as if he still dwells among us." She looked upon her sister, then her voice became softer, "Astarii, Legolas gave us so much, but you know that he is passed. Just as well as I do." Amaranth's soft voice shook; there was a bitter note of pain and grief in her voice. "Astarii, you know how much the past brings a bittersweet taste to my soul. Remembering our parents deaths, and even their lives brings so much pain."  
  
"Dear sister, do you not realise that the pain is the same for I, also?" Astarii said, and for a long while, neither elf spoke. "Our father was Aragorn son of Arathorn, heir of Isildur, then he came home from his long journeys with the Fellowship and became King. King of Gondor. And he married our mother, Arwen Undómiel, and she became Queen of Elves and men…" Astarii went on dreamily, then looked sharply upon her sister, "Do you not understand? We are the heirs of Isildur. After Eldarion passes, we are next in line."  
  
"No. Persicaria would be first. She is an elder sister."  
  
"Persicaria will not take the crown. She will not be Queen. I know she will not."  
  
Amaranth laughed and threw some brown leaves around, playfully.  
  
"Astarii, you know as well as I do that Persicaria would give anything to be Queen. Forget this conversation. Such things should not be spoken about aloud in the Garden of Estel. You shall never be sure of who is," Amaranth paused and craned her pale, long neck to see if anyone was lurking behind trees. "Eavesdropping." She ended her sentence.  
  
Astarii nodded in agreement and stared out at the Garden of Estel once more.  
  
"But you have not answered, dear sister." She said quietly, "Where are we to dwell? For our father, and our mother, Arwen Evenstar of course lived in Gondor. And since they have both left us, should we not have the choice of where to travel?"  
  
Amaranth sighed and leant her beautiful head back against the oak she was sitting against and with an emotional sigh, she said,  
  
"Alas! beloved, we should. But dwelling in the same place, among where elanor and niphridil once grew pains our hearts more than any slaying weaponry."  
  
"Yes, yes." Answered Astarii, "Although, dear sister, we do both have pain in our hearts, should we not try to leave that pain for a short while? And be like our father, meet new people and help them?"  
  
"Beloved Sister, you do not mean for us to become elven rangers?" Amaranth said, as she picked up a thick twig from the oak, and began to sharpen one end with a short wood-elf blade she pulled from the back of her garments,  
  
"No dear sister, I do not wish to choose exile as our father." Astarii said, "We one day will possibly hold power. All I say is that in my heart, I hope to see our mothers father, Elrond." Astarii sighed,  
  
"Dearest Astarii, Elrond has gone to the ocean. You know full well." Amaranth looked at her sister with grave eyes. "You also know that our mother Lady Undómiel became Queen of both Elves and men, and our father, Aragorn son of Arathorn, was King of Gondor, but Lo! they both have passed, leaving our brother, Eldarion to become the King, and his wife to become the Queen!" she threw an elven blade into a tree nearby and it affixed itself in its bark with a sharp "Clunk!"  
  
"Yes, yes, Brother Eldarion. Although somehow us children of Arwen and Aragorn appear to have a trace of immortality, Eldarion will not last as King forever. And, I have an odd feeling, dearest Amaranth. That something bad shall become of our family and that we may lose something important.... Do you have the same feeling?"  
  
Amaranth laughed again, her sweet soft voice filled the wood, and birds fluttered nearer to the two young elves.  
  
"It is a fear of the past. Our dear father feared the same." She smiled a painful smile; memories of her father came flooding back and her throat stuck together in her fight against the tears.  
  
"Yes," said Astarii, Amaranth could sense that the wounds were still fresh for her sister also. Then, Astarii spoke suddenly again, "Memories of our father are growing fainter… Although we do not look old, I hardly remember him at all. And mother, her memories are fading as well... Is it the same for you dearest sister?"  
  
Amaranth's eyes rested upon a small brown bird, hopping around the tree she'd just stabbed with flying blades. For a moment, the wood was silent, save the bird song and water flowing, then Amaranth sighed and spoke,  
  
"No indeed. I remember them both well... but this may well be memory enforced by myth."  
  
Astarii smiled at her sister,  
  
"Yes. I have one memory of which I shall not say, but I believe it may be one that I had made up to try to remember them. Maybe it is because, dearest sister, you are younger. Not by much, but still...."  
  
Amaranth glared at her sister,  
  
"Ah, as I am the youngest I am not allowed to know!" she tutted, paused and began again, "Dearest Legolas never kept a thing from us... do you remember, beloved sister?"  
  
"Ah, yes. Legolas gave us very many a vivid description of father fighting." She paused and felt the bark with her fingertips, then sighed and stared up at the green leaves of the trees around them, "Do you remember any of the tale of father saying goodbye to Gondor's old heir, Boromir son of Denethor?"  
  
Amaranth walked over to retrieve her blade, choked back the tears, her throat begged her to let them flow from her blue pool-like eyes,  
  
"I do indeed... the tale always brought a… tear to my eye."  
  
"I as well." Astarii murmured, her eyes searching the skies of which she could see as if looking up to see her parents' faces. "Father must have been a wonderful person, though odd that he died at such a young age...."  
  
Amaranth stared in a sick amazement at her sister,  
  
"But sister, you must realise - our father was but a mortal man, ten and two hundred years is a few scores more than they would have in their world."  
  
"But not that long to us. For we have beaten his age many times already."  
  
Amaranth snapped her gaze right back at her sister and hissed,  
  
"Astarii! Please, do not speak in that way. I like to remember father in the way he was. Not the way he would be." Then she looked back to the ground and stayed looking there until her sister spoke again.  
  
"Yes of course, Amaranth. For we should remember what was, and not of what could happen. Though, I'm sure you have wondered what it would have been like if father were an elf? Though if you say no, it shall be hard for you to say so in truth. For some of our other sisters have confided in me saying the same..." Astarii's face was overcome by a cheeky little grin, but Amaranth's face stayed grave,  
  
"If our father was an elf," she said firmly, "We would not exist." She moved a stray piece of hair from her face and behind her subtle elven ears, "If our mother and father had met, and they were both elves, Sir Frodo would not have met our father in the Prancing Pony as Legolas tells us he did, and things would have been different. Very, very different."  
  
As soon as Amaranth had stopped talking, the girls heard a snap of a twig in the wood beyond.  
  
The sisters looked at each other, eyes fearful yet strong, and Astarii said, in a steady elven tongue,  
  
"Deyash nek'tai, Amaranth."  
  
And Amaranth carefully stood and walked quietly as she could with her sister until they reached the middle of the Garden of Estel, sunlight shining right down upon their long, dark hair, and a voice came from behind them.  
  
"Amaranth! Astarii!" the girls stopped still. Then they swapped glances and carefully turned around, they both had hands firm upon their blades.  
  
But instead of seeing a foreign being behind them, they saw close kindred of Legolas Greenleaf, the young elf Jonquil, (of whom the full lineage is not fully known) standing with his bow pointing to the ground. His long, light golden hair around his shoulders with the trademark two braids, his elven garments held close to his lean figure and his keen eyes were full of interest.  
  
"Jonquil!" Amaranth said in surprise, taking her hand from her blade. "What are you doing in such parts?"  
  
"There is grave news about the race of elves." He said, and the girls noticed a breathless touch to his voice.  
  
"What would this news be?" Astarii asked politely, "What news of the elves?"  
  
"We will need to move to Mudwort after all." Jonquil said, stepping closer. "Mirkwood is passing."  
  
"Passing? How so?" Amaranth was now worried, her heart beat ever faster and images of evil filled her head.  
  
"Our Lord, Gladiolus has passed. We are low on the ground. We must join forces with Mudwort."  
  
"I have never said we should not." Amaranth said, harshly.  
  
"Amaranth!" snapped Astarii; "This is grave news about Gladiolus. Give our word to the others of kindred to him."  
  
"Indeed." Said Amaranth, urgently; "I must get to Mudwort immediately. Angrec, I wish to speak with him." With that, Amaranth hurried off, her blue and silver garments swayed in the wind, but not as much as her dark hair, flowing behind her. Jonquil's eyes followed her until she could not be seen for the trees.  
  
"She is a beauty." Jonquil said quietly, "If only wishes came true."  
  
"You wish for my sister?" Astarii said, seriously, leading Jonquil to a stone bench by the water. Jonquil sat with Astarii and looked at the ground.  
  
"Is such a wish discouraged?" he asked, in obvious discomfort.  
  
"Ah, no." Astarii smiled, showing neat white teeth and a side to her that people do not usually see.  
  
"But it is not a wish that will come true. For Amaranth's heart is already being held captive by a much more likely candidate for her love."  
  
"How so?" Astarii smiled, leaning back on the bench.  
  
"Angrec. He is in love with Amaranth. He saw her singing and dancing on this very spot. Signing the tune of Undómiel."  
  
"Is this so? My sister has fallen into the elven maiden trap? Angrec is but a mortal man, and he has stumbled upon Amaranth singing and dancing within the Garden of Estel?" Astarii stared at Jonquil in disbelief.  
  
"It is so. I am afraid; Amaranth is sought after by many a male. Alas! It will not be me that she chooses."  
  
"How can you be so sure? There is but one person for each elven being. My mother, Undómiel did not love my father, Aragorn, for some while – and it turns out they were meant to be." Astarii rest a hand upon Jonquil's shoulder to comfort him. But he did not smile; he simply stood, and walked away. 


	2. The Wood and The Shire

1.1.1.1.1.1 Chapter 2  
  
The Wood and The Shire  
  
The narrow winding paths of Mudwort curved round a wooded corner. Amaranth's small feet stumbled upon a few stones. Her pale little hand rested upon the back of a gleaming white horse. It was a horse of Elven home. She had called it Evenstar in memory of her mother.  
  
"Right then, Evenstar… where now?" she asked, her voice soft and quiet.  
  
The woods either side of the path were silent but intriguing. She looked her eyes full of a fear of sorts as she walked slowly into the wooded side to her right. She began to sing shakily, the song of Undómiel, the song she sang when Angrec fell in love with her.  
  
iUndómiel, the star we knew,  
  
Undómiel, away she flew.  
  
Away from Rivendell, Elronds house  
  
Away from Lothlórien, Celebrian's home  
  
For she chose, above immortality  
  
A love of loves that was meant to be.  
  
Her wed-life with her love lasted six-score years  
  
But in the end, it ended in tears.  
  
The bittersweet taste of mortality struck  
  
And after her love's death, her soul was shook  
  
She travelled through Lórien, and lay herself down  
  
Her old age overcame her, behind her she left her crown  
  
Now all that remains are memories  
  
Painful bitter memories  
  
We will never look upon that face,  
  
Look into those eyes full of such grace  
  
For she is now gone, along with her love,  
  
And has left us on this world, to grieve her"/i  
  
A smiled creeped over her face as she led Evenstar over more logs and leaves, next moment she stumbled upon a small pile of burnt wood, signs of afire. Also, next to the wood lay a small leather pocket patch, filled with leaves and little white flowers; Amaranth traced the slight smell of honey in the air to those five little petals.  
  
"Aranthi," Amaranth whispered with a smile. "That means, of course… Angrec." She smiled even more when she heard a rustle of footsteps upon the leafy ground, she turned around and instead of seeing, as she'd hoped, her love, Angrec, she saw a female elf with long blonde hair. She was an elf of Mudwort, her name was Furze. Amaranth met her many years before in the woods encircling the Garden of Estel. She was searching for Jonquil, as they had been very good friends for a while.  
  
Amaranth stood still for a moment staring at Furze in surprise.  
  
"Furze!" she said, still staring, Furze stared back,  
  
"Ai! Amaranth; Ser'noth'A e Ashan'rai?"  
  
"Siana," Amaranth smiled, "Furze, what brings you to the wood of Mudwort? Do you not live upon the plains? In the domes?"  
  
"I do indeed. Only, I was on a walk, rumours have reached the dome plantations. Evil has reached Mirkwood. Every elf or other being that dwells there is in fatal danger."  
  
Amaranth tried her hardest to cover up her terror.  
  
"And what news of the Garden of Estel? Has it yet been reached?"  
  
"I know not. But I assume your sister, Astarii, Ser'noth'A e Ashan'rai, will come to you with news."  
  
"Tell me, Furze, why do you call me and my sister by that name? Sister of the son of the High King?"  
  
"Ah, because you are. Eldarion is the son of the High King. The King that saved Gondor. Bless him with a million Aranthi petals." Furze sighed, "He was a fine fellow. Although, I did not know him myself, I have heard many a tale." Her eyes slipped up to the cracks in-between the branches of the trees, "I must go on. Namarië Amaranth."  
  
"Namarië."  
  
Furze walked slowly through the trees, Amaranth was turned round, her eyes upon Furze's back. Just as she disappeared from sight, a hand slipped itself around Amaranth's slim waist. She shivered, and was at first afraid but soon she smelt the Aranthi petals upon his cloak and she smiled, turning round to her love, ranger and warrior Angrec.  
  
"Ah, my love. Amaranth." He smiled back at her and held her close to his body, smelled the beautiful soft rose smell in her hair and rubbed his cheek against her soft skin.  
  
"Angrec, beloved. Where have you been?"  
  
"Just here. Waiting." He pulled away from her and looked into her bright blue eyes. "You are so beautiful."  
  
"Ah, Angrec. You must not spoil me. My head will grow too big for my crown." She smiled at him and he laughed, a strong yet quiet laugh.  
  
"I do love you," He said, running his fingers across her cheek, "and you are so beautiful, no man or elf or other being upon this earth deserves such a beauty."  
  
Amaranth laughed,  
  
"And no woman nor elf nor other being deserves to be treated so well."  
  
"Apart from you."  
  
He pulled her close again. They stayed in a loving embrace for a long while, just standing holding each other on the outskirts of the wood.  
  
*****  
  
At midday on the twentieth of September, Burdock Buckbean could be found sitting outside his hobbit hole with a big red book. What was this big red book you ask? The Red Book. Passed down for thousands of years from Bilbo Baggins, to Samwise Gamgee, to Elanor Gamgee, to Elanors children, their children and so on, until it came into the hands of one Burdock Buckbean of New Row.  
  
1.1.1.1.1.1.1 The Return of the King… Aragorn returned to Gondor  
  
to claim his crown and take the hand of Arwen Undómiel,  
  
daughter of Elrond in marriage.  
  
Burdock spent many a day sitting out in the sun of the Shire reading of Frodo, Bilbo and Sam's adventures. Reading of Aragorn and Arwen after he'd heard so much from the rumours around the Shire.  
  
Rumour also had it that daughter of Aragorn and Arwen, Amaranth Undómiel, would be coming to the shire extremely soon to seek out people to help her on a quest.  
  
Burdock wanted very much to be able to go on adventures like he'd read about in the Red Book.  
  
"Burdock Buckbean! My word, you're still reading that book?" a voice bounced into Burdocks busy ears, the voice belonged to one Houstania Hyssop, a blonde Hobbit with beady black eyes, which made her look like a piglet.  
  
"Yes, I am, Miss Hyssop and I'd be eternally grateful if you left me to it, my dear." He smiled at his neighbour, she laughed back at him.  
  
She passed by, pulling her many children behind her, who in turn all waved at Burdock and he waved back, then turned another leaf in the book.  
  
But something stopped his eyes from reading. A gleaming white horse, followed by seven other light brown horses, came galloping over the bridge and came to a halt just outside New Row. The rider of the white horse dismounted, and Burdock stood to see the rider in better view. He saw that it was an elven lady, with long dark hair and a beautiful pale face.  
  
"Hobbits! Hear me, Hobbits! Evil has awoken!" her strong voice shouted over the Hobbit-Holes. There were murmurs and shouts of terror, "Be not afraid of us – we are here to recruit more for our journey to the depths of shadows! Who here will put their talents to their uses and stop evil from its victory once more?" the other riders behind her had dismounted. It seemed to Burdock that they were a mixture of men and elves, male and female, dressed in brown and black and greens, muddy and wet from their journey.  
  
Questions erupted from the crowds of Hobbits that had now formed around the riders.  
  
"Where have you come from?"  
  
"Why do you need us?"  
  
"What evil do you speak of?"  
  
The elf lady hushed the questions and shouted out again,  
  
"The evil is Orc-species! Arisen from the lava! But fear not! I am Amaranth, daughter of King Aragorn and Queen Arwen, I and my fellows are here to help you! Now, who of you Hobbits will help us conquer evil?"  
  
Burdock stepped out of his garden gate and further toward the horses and their riders.  
  
"I will go. I have always wished for adventure. Although, I do not wish to go alone."  
  
Amaranth smiled at Burdock.  
  
"You will not go alone. There is me, my fellows and we seek one more of your kind to accompany us."  
  
Burdock saw Amaranth turn to a man of the riders and whisper to him in elven tongue.  
  
He only caught the words Ashtae, meaning 'the area around', Estai, meaning 'anger', Evrantilen, meaning 'oath-sworn' and many more most probably talking about the quest, but then the words changed to more personal, private words, so Burdock blushed and stopped listening abruptly.  
  
"Tell me," said the man, smiling, "What is your name, young hobbit?"  
  
Burdock grinned at the man,  
  
"I am Burdock Buckbean, of Baggins lineage."  
  
Amaranth smiled back at him.  
  
"Frodo Baggins and my father went on the Quest of the Ring together. You are clearly destined to be with us on this journey. Yet we still need one more of Hobbit Kind."  
  
A small hobbit stepped forward through crowds of his kindred, and said in a squeaky voice,  
  
"I am Yarrow Hyssop. I am a small hobbit but my strength is but hidden within. I wish to accompany you on this quest."  
  
"I am glad you have the courage to step forward, Mr. Hyssop." Smiled the man. "I am Angrec. I am of no famous lineage, but I am friend of the High Elves."  
  
Jeers came from the crowds, but Amaranth hushed them again.  
  
"We now have our full nine. If you would be so kind, dear Hobbits, to care for our horses and give us food and shelter for a day or two until we have our strength and plan ready to go?"  
  
Hobbits came around the horses and led them off. Amaranth's hand found its way into Angrec's hand and they walked slowly up to Burdock.  
  
"We wish to be placed to be together. But we wish not to take up room. Do you have blankets so that we could sleep in the wooded area yonder?" Angrec pointed to a wooded area over the bridge. Burdock looked but was overcome with guilt to let an Elven Maiden and her beloved to sleep in the wood.  
  
"Oh, no, no. Please, my lady Amaranth, and kind Sir, please, you are to stay with me! There is much room! There is just me in this place and it does get quite lonely at times. I would appreciate some company for a few days."  
  
And then, Burdock Buckbean was placed with the burden of an Elven Princess and her lover staying under his roof. He suddenly became very sheepish. 


End file.
